


love (where it wasn't supposed to be)

by vuccijl



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, GGPAT2020, Rio POV, Rio has some feelings, post 3x11, set a few months after 3x11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuccijl/pseuds/vuccijl
Summary: For the 2020 Good Girls Prompt-a-thon: Rio catches/finds out about Dean cheating AGAIN (not from Beth) and goes off on Dean bc he just doesn’t understand how he could do that to Elizabeth. Dean totally realizes he was right, that Rio loves Beth, and says so out loud to him.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 46
Kudos: 320
Collections: Good Girls Prompt-a-thon 2020





	love (where it wasn't supposed to be)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for whoever submitted this prompt and Medievalraven for her help and support as always.
> 
> This is set a few months after 3x11.
> 
> Title comes from Amber Run “I Found”

Rio’s setting up his next shot at the pool table when he hears the door open behind him. He knows who it is so he doesn’t stand up, just refocuses on the eight ball in front of him and the corner pocket he intends to sink it into.

He pulls back on the cue stick and just as he’s about to push forward and make contact the stick is jostled from behind him. The balls he'd just perfectly lined up shoot forward but go in the complete wrong direction and he can only watch as the white cue ball sinks into the middle pocket, effectively ending the game - his first loss to Cisco in weeks.

Rio’s lean body stands up straight. His eyes follow Mick as he walks past and sets a black duffel bag onto the high top table near the wall.

“Fuck you.” Rio says easily but his voice lacks any real sign of anger as he tosses the cue stick onto the green felt of the table.

“Didn’t see you there.” Mick answers with a shrug but no apology, unzipping the bag in front of him.

Rio smirks and reaches into his pocket to pull out a wad of cash. He pulls a hundred from the bunch and tosses it in Cisco’s direction. It floats in the air for a second and then flutters downwards, landing in the middle of the pool table. Cisco reaches forward to claim it, giving Rio a mock salute.

It’s the best way to go about beating Rio – with the help of someone who’s not afraid of him.

“Double or nothin’?” Cisco asks, nodding towards the table.

Rio agrees but holds up a hand. “Gimme a minute.”

He makes his way over to Mick and pounds his right-hand man on the shoulder in greeting, harder than necessary but enough to make a point.

Mick grunts but doesn’t acknowledge it otherwise.

“All good?” Rio asks, as Mick continues to count the bills in his hand.

Mick had left an hour earlier to pick up his cut – it’d been a long night and he hadn’t been in the mood to deal with the bullshit that came along with most of his meetings with Elizabeth.

It’s a minute before he answers, and Rio waits as he finishes up counting his current stack, re-wrapping it with a band. “Yeah.”

“What happened to Nick?” Rio asks, referring to the Boland Bubbles “employee” who typically brought Rio’s cut to him on Friday nights.

“Beth said he’s called out three days in a row.” Mick answers, meeting Rio’s eyes.

“Hm.” Rio hums in thought, leaning his elbow on the table. He rests his chin in the palm of his hand and brushes his fingers over his mouth before he looks over to Cisco.

“Find Nick.” He instructs with no room for argument. “Bring him in.”

Cisco nods in understanding and turns to leave the room, leaving Mick and Rio alone.

Nick Asher is the newest employee at Boland Bubbles. Rio had given Beth a few employees to work the warehouse end of things under the guise that her dumb ass husband had hired them. It helped to have ears in the place, not to mention people who knew their business for what it really was. It _didn’t_ help when they started slacking on the job or takin’ advantage of him.

“How the books look?” Rio inquires, even though he knows.

“Just as good as they did when we went over ‘em with her last week.” Mick calls him out. He’s the only one that gets away with it – the only one Rio _lets_ get away with it.

Except maybe for her.

Rio ignores him and pulls out his phone, scrolling with disinterest.

“You gotta start trustin’ her more, man.” Mick suggests, not for the first time.

“Cuz she’s given me so many reasons to do that?” Rio scoffs with a shake of his head. He pockets his phone and looks at his friend. He’s feeling restless, like something’s coming but he don’t know what – he hates not knowing. Has never been a patient man.

Mick just shrugs and finishes his counting. Rio knows he has more to say, knows he keeps half of what he’s thinking inside. For the most part it’s appreciated but there’s a very small part of Rio that wants to know what the man is thinking when it comes to his relationship with Elizabeth.

Thinks it could benefit him to have someone talk some sense into him.

Thinks he’ll never ask for it, though.

Mick zips the bag back up and leans back in his chair.

“This stayin’ here?” He gestures towards the stack of money in front of them. They’ve continued to funnel a part of their cut through the bar even though most of their focus these days has been on hot tubs and spas.

Rio nods and pushes off from where he leans. He walks around the pool table grabbing the triangle and placing it down. He starts to collect the balls and line them inside. He needs to do something to keep him busy.

“Game?”

Mick nods and stands, walking towards the wall on the opposite side of the room to grab a cue stick.

They work in silence, setting up their game, making their first shots, settling who’ll shoot what. Rio prefers playing with Mick, knows he doesn’t have to put on a show or fill the quiet with monotonous chatter. It’s late and he’s tired and his mind needs the break.

But Mick’s a fuckin’ dick and doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

“He’s steppin’ out on her again.” Mick brings up casually, assessing the table and his next shot.

Rio’s eyes narrow at his friend. He leans his weight against the stick in his hand and licks his lips before asking. He's pretty sure he doesn't want to know but his curiosity gets the better of him.

“Who’s that?”

Mick raises his head to meet Rio’s gaze. “Dean.”

A fire lights in Rio and he has to forcefully put it out. Has to bite his tongue until it bleeds to physically remind himself to calm the fuck down – that it don’t matter, that it has no effect on him, that he _could not care the fuck less_ about what happens in her personal life, about what Dean is doing and with who.

“Serves her right.” Rio mumbles but he’s not convincing.

He takes his shot and misses by a mile.

Mick drops his head and chuckles. “Just thought you’d want to know.”

“Maybe quit thinkin’ so much, yeah?”

And then he wins his hundred back.

*

Rio shows up late the next week and he knows she’s going to be pissed. The later he is the later she has to stay and he knows it drives her crazy – the control he still holds. If he’s admitting things to himself, which really he’s not in the habit of doing, he probably does it on purpose. Loves to get her worked up, loves to watch her flush in all the right places. Thinks she deserves the torture a little bit, if he's bein' honest.

It’s dark inside the store, void of the harsh, fluorescent bulbs that brighten the place during the day. The only light comes shining in from off the street and the lamp in the corner of her office. He enters quietly and strolls through the showroom slowly, reaching out to drag his hand across the edge of every spa he touches.

He reaches the door way of the room where she sits and smirks when she doesn’t look at him. He knows that she knows that he’s there. It’s in the way that she sits, the tension in her shoulders. She's got the same sense for him that he's (mostly) accepted he's got for her. 

“Sorry I’m late.” He apologizes but there ain’t one bit of him that’s remorseful and she knows it.

“Didn't even notice.” Elizabeth brushes him off without looking up. He smirks and watches as she continues typing. She makes a few clicks on her mouse before giving in to look up at him.

Their eyes clash and he almost doesn’t catch the way his heartbeat picks up. He guesses he’s gotten used to the reaction – knows he’s done a good job of ignorin’ it.

His shoulder leans against the door frame, his arms cross over his chest. He looks her up and down the way he always does – can’t seem to help himself where that’s concerned. She’s lost the blazer she’d presumably been wearing all day, it’s draped across the back of her chair which leaves her in a snug, v-neck t-shirt. It’s white and if he looks the right way he thinks he can make out lace underneath.

He’s dying to know if she’s wearing one of those tight pencil skirts that shows off her curves or pants that wrap around her in all the right places but her legs are hidden underneath her desk, tucked carefully out of view.

“That mine?” He asks, jutting his chin out towards the black bag sitting on the chair in front of her desk.

“I mean, technically.” Elizabeth answers, her voice dripping with disdain and his mouth curves up at both corners when he hears her tone.

He knows she can’t stand the part he has in her business – and he does know that it’s _her_ business – he may have provided the capital but it wouldn’t have happened without her. He thinks he might be closer to admitting it but, not yet.

Not ever, maybe. He thinks then he’ll have to give her up and he’s not ready for that. He’s certainly not ready to delve into the why of it, either.

Why it is that he’s so fuckin’ stuck on a woman who’s left more scars than the ones tattooed on his skin.

Rio walks further into the office and picks up the bag but instead of putting it over his shoulder and leaving like he should, he perches himself on the arm of the chair and places the bag onto the floor.

“Nick won’t be back.” He informs her, making sure to keep his eyes on her face so that he can clock her reaction.

He sees her swallow, sees her shoulders sag and then she pins him with a look that he thought only his mother could give him. “What did you do?”

He holds up his arms in surrender and grins. “ _I_ didn’t do anything.”

“How do you know he wasn’t actually sick?”

“Cuz I know.” He shoots back, biting the inside of his cheek to reign in his annoyance. He knows because he’d caught Nick skimming off the top of runs and communicating with Rio’s biggest competitor – but what would be the fun in letting her in on that?

Elizabeth sighs heavily but lets it go. She’s smart enough to know he doesn’t do anything _just because_ , even if she doesn’t agree with most of it.

“Anything else then?” She questions and Rio can see that she’s dismissing him. She starts to gather up her things and organize her desk in preparation to leave for the night. He knows by now that she tries to take the weekends off but he’s yet to see her succeed.

Rio contemplates his next move. He’s a smart guy and he knows when she’s close to unraveling – can see it in her posture, her eyes - can hear it in her voice.

But sometimes, he just can’t help himself.

“Goin' home to the kids?” He asks, spreading his palms over his thighs.

“They’ll be in bed by now.” She mumbles and he can hear the words _“thanks to you”_ even if she doesn’t say them.

She doesn’t look up but he sees her eyes land on his hands. Rio’s picked up on a thing or two and he knows Elizabeth likes his hands. Has suspected it since that night inside a dirty bar bathroom, confirmed it in her bed when she'd whispered it in between husky moans.

“Dean holdin' down the fort tonight?” He questions curiously. He can’t help the way he says Dean's name - somehow laced with sarcasm and distaste and amusement all at once. Rio picks up on the exact moment she realizes he’s sniffing for something.

“What are you doing?” Elizabeth tries to figure out through narrowed eyes.

Rio puts a hand to his chest and laughs when she glares. “Nothin’. Just wonderin’ how it works with you two.”

“Well, stop wondering.” She bristles, pushing her chair back to stand.

Pants. Dark jeans, more specifically, that fit her like a second skin.

“Don’t picture him as the hands on type.” He continues, stroking his jaw in thought.

“Why are you picturing him at all?” Elizabeth wonders, and he hates that haughty, self-righteous tone. Wants to tell her where the fuck she can shove it but he doesn’t. Has gotten good at holdin’ back. 

He watches as she grabs the blazer on the back of her chair so that she can rustle her way back into it. 

“He definitely ain’t the hands on type o’ husband.” He muses, ignoring her previous question. He gives himself an imaginary pat on the back when she flushes. 

“Stop.” She rolls her eyes but doesn't seem to care either way. She grabs a stack of papers and shoves them into a drawer, locking it. Her purse sits on the top of her desk and she grabs it, swinging it over her shoulder. He takes her lead and picks up the bag at his feet as she shuts the lamp behind her, blanketing them in near darkness.

He can tell the moment she realizes she's made a mistake. It's too dark, too intimate - the exact situation they've tried to avoid for months now.

“So things are good then?” He pushes. She takes a step forward to try and bypass him on the way to the door but he blocks her, invading her space to get closer than he knows he should. She won’t meet his eyes and if he’s reading her right it’s because things _aren’t_ good at home.

Makes him wonder if maybe Mick’s not the only one who knows about where Dean’s dick has been.

“Why do you care?” Elizabeth demands as his eyes trail down her face, stopping at her mouth when he sees her tongue peak out to lick her lips. He moves down the length of her neck, refuses to remember what it was like to touch his mouth to velvety skin, and back up again before he replies.

"Don't want business sufferin' if your marriage is on thin ice."

She stands up straighter and takes her opportunity just like he predicted she would. “You’re _more_ than welcome to eliminate yourself from the business then.”

He laughs and it’s genuine because he loves how she keeps tryin’ to get him out of something he’s pretty sure she likes having him a part of. 

He takes a step forward even though there really isn't anywhere for him to go that’s not obscenely close to her. Their chest to chest now, toe to toe, and he feels a jolt of satisfaction when she shivers.

“Can’t.” Is all he says before adding, “Not til we take a dip at least.”

Elizabeth scoffs but he can tell she's slightly amused. “Is that all it’ll take?” 

He doesn’t answer just keeps looking at her, waiting for something. She sighs and meets his gaze head on and if he were a weaker man he'd crumble under the vulnerability behind the look she gives him.

“I’m not going to mess this up, okay? And neither will the state of my marriage.”

Rio nods and bites on his lower lip. He clenches his fist in his hand – not for the first time he has to force himself not to reach up and touch her. Force himself not to push the hair out of her face. Has to remind himself it muddles things between them. He’s already going soft on her – he knows it and so does she, he thinks.

But he finds himself wantin’ to let her know that he doesn’t doubt her.

“Yeah. A’ight.” He settles on and he makes sure it’s clear that he believes her by meeting her eyes head on. 

“You don’t need him though.” He adds abruptly, stepping back to put distance between them before it's too late. 

She tilts her head in question but he won’t clarify about what he means. Will let her assume that he’s talking about business when really he’s talking about everything but.

And then he turns and leaves like he’s gotten so good at doing because he has to.

For everyone’s sake.

*

Rio decides to follow Dean two weeks later when Elizabeth cancels on him. She asks to postpone their meet up to the next day – says that she needs to be home early, that Dean has a meeting with a potential big client – some realtor or contractor or both, Rio doesn't particularly know or care about the details. Instead of giving her a hard time he agrees and then, for the good of his business, for the good of _his money_ , he sets out to catch him in the act.

He needs to see it for himself.

He parks across the street from Boland Bubbles an hour before closing and waits. He sits up straighter in his seat when he sees Dean lock up and wave good-night to a co-worker. He watches him climb into his car and trails him without any stealth involved. Rio feels confident he isn't underestimating the tall, lanky man’s inability to realize when he's being tailed.

They don't go far – it's only a few minutes later that Dean pulls into the parking lot of a swanky, downtown bar/restaurant that makes Rio’s skin crawl. He'd had no intention of going inside but when he sees the blonde waiting outside, sees Dean approach her and embrace her, realizes she's the administrative assistant Elizabeth had introduced him to last month, comes to the conclusion that Mick was right, he sees red. 

Rio pulls into the first empty parking spot he sees and puts the G-Wagon into park with unnecessary force. He's amped up, he's ready to throw fists but he forces himself to reel it in. He considers calling Mick for back up – but no – he’ll handle the prick on his own.

Doesn't think he wants Mick to see what's about to go down.

In the back of his mind Rio knows it’s irrational - knows he should stop and focus on why he’s so worked up, but nah.

He walks into the restaurant and nods at the hostess as he makes his way over to a corner of the bar. Dean sticks out like a sore thumb at the table he sits at – a goofy, under-dressed idiot with a gorgeous, young blond clearly too insecure with herself, too blinded by the attention of an older man, to know that she deserves better.

Rio orders a drink and sips on it as he watches Dean schmooze his companion. Watches him tell lame joke after lame joke, watches him slide his hand up her thigh under the table, watches him lean forward to plant a kiss against her neck.

And just as Rio is about to snap, he sees Dean rise and make his way towards the bathroom in the back of the restaurant.

He finishes off his drink and throws a couple of bills on the bar to cover it. He slides off his stool and glides across the room, shooting a glance at the blonde as he passes. He's tempted to stop but it's not why he's here. He ain't got time to knock sense into a twenty something year old with no self-respect.

Rio reaches the men’s room and leans up against the wall across from the bathroom. It’s quiet and dark and he thinks he’s never been more excited about confronting a man completely by surprise then he is right now.

And the excitement only ramps back up when Dean exits the bathroom.

Rio smirks at the deer in headlights look. It's been a long time since they've come face to face and to say Rio’s caught him off guard would be an understatement. He knows Dean has no idea he’s involved with his business - prefers it that way for the most part - but right now he thinks he’ll do anything to demolish whatever pride this guy has left. 

"Yo." Rio greets, shoving his hands into his pockets. He pushes off the wall he was leaning against so he matches Dean’s height.

"What - what do you want?" Dean asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes swing towards the bar area searching for an escape.

"Didn't realize the Boland's had split up." Rio speculates, raising his eyebrows. His voice is light but he sees Dean's eyes flicker with hesitation.

“Didn’t realize it was any of your business.”

“No?” Rio asks but doesn’t elaborate. Just lets it sit for a minute – let’s Dean’s mind wander. Lets him draw his own conclusions.

He sees the moment that Dean clues into the fact that in some ways it very much _is_ Rio’s business when figurative smoke starts bursting from his ears. 

“You should leave _my wife_ alone.” Dean spits out through clenched teeth.

Rio’s bottom lip pops over the top and he shrugs. “Maybe you could give me some tips, yeah? For how to do that?You seem real good at it.”

Dean’s face turns red and the veins in his neck look just about ready to burst. Rio can tell he’s finding it harder to appear calm and it takes everything he’s got not to cackle in his face.

"You know what I can't stand?" Rio asks, stepping closer. It's a rhetorical question but he pauses for a second and watches Dean sniff, watches a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, watches him shift on both his feet as he contemplates making a run for it.

"A guy who don’t realize how good he's got it." Rio continues, looking Dean up and down in disgust. "A guy that will literally fuck up a good thing just to get his dick wet."

"Yeah, well I can't stand a guy who can have anyone he wants but chooses the married woman he's not entitled to.” Dean shoots back. "And I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there."

Dean puffs his chest out and stands taller as if he’s had just about enough of being talked down to but he reels it in yet again when he sees the darkness flash across Rio’s gaze.

Rio has half a second to spin Dean’s words around in his head and another half a second to push them aside. It ain’t the time or the place to figure out why Dean is blaming _him_ for his marriage troubles _._

Rio’s lips part and just as he’s about to tell Dean to man up and take responsibility for his own dumb ass mistakes he speaks.

“Are you going to tell her?” Dean asks quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

His voice is low and it’s hard to hear the question over the music in the restaurant and the dulled sound of a hundred different conversations but Rio gets the gist of it. He lets out a quick laugh, exasperated, before answering.

“Don't kid yourself, man. She already knows.” 

And then he moves to high tail it out of there before his fists start flying. 

"How’s it feel to love something you’ll never have?” Dean calls after him and against his better judgment Rio stops in his tracks. 

He should keep moving. Should ignore him. Or punch him. But he just turns with that smirk etched tightly across his face. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets because as much as he wants to draw blood he thinks it’s better to keep his hands clean this time around.

“Better than havin’ it and realizin’ I fucked it up." 

And Rio’s thankful for the noise as he makes his way towards the exit. Thankful for the dimmed lights. Thankful that there’s no one around to hear the way his voice catches on his words. 

*

It's late and there's no reason for him to still be here but Elizabeth had been sipping on a glass of bourbon when he'd dropped by unannounced and she'd invited him to join her. She’s done it before, more out of politeness than anything, and while he’s never taken her up on the offer he'd grabbed onto the olive branch this time around. Wasn't willing to think about it too deeply but wasn't willing to let it go either.

Dean’s words had fucked with his head all week, _I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there,_ and the promise of alcohol to dull the same words on loop is welcome.

He snaps out of it when an incessant vibration cuts through his thoughts. 

Elizabeth looks down at the buzzing phone next to her and scoffs before hitting the button on the side of it to silence the noise. 

He tilts his head in curiosity and even though he knows he shouldn't press he also knows there's no shot he won't. 

"Ain't nice to ignore a phone call." He casually points out as he rests his chin into his hand. His elbow digs into the arm of his chair as he watches her scrunch her nose up at him. His legs are spread wide open and he’s slouched down in his seat. 

"Would you still say that if I told you it was Dean?" She teases as she brings her glass to her lips. His eyes linger a second too long on the way they press to the rim, the way the liquid slides down on throat, the way her tongue peaks out to taste what’s left behind.

He lowers his head and let's out a light chuckle and attempts to get a grip on himself. He ain’t keen on this Rio. On the Rio that easily forgets his history with the women in front of him. 

His hand moves to brush across the stubble covering his jaw before he looks back up and into her eyes. "Depends what he wants."

And Elizabeth’s answer makes Rio think she must be _just_ buzzed enough to feel like sharing. "Probably to grovel."

He hums and sits back in his chair. "So there _is_ trouble in paradise."

She shrugs and mirrors his action on the other side of her desk but not before finishing off what’s left of her drink. "Isn’t there always?”

He's silently assessing her when she continues. "Probably time I did something about it though."

"All the time I know you I ain't never seen you sit back and let someone take advantage of you." He offers, tapping his foot on the ground. He's edging the line of no return. Can’t decide if he should let her in on what he knows. Can’t decide if maybe she already _does_ know. He wants to find out but he's made it a point not to get involved with her bullshit. Drama was only but a blip on his radar before he’d met her. 

He swallows the rest of his drink and shakes his head when Elizabeth holds up the bottle next to her to offer him a top off. Doesn’t stop her from refilling her own.

"It's different where my kids are concerned." She finally answers. “I’d stay with him and be miserable if I thought it’d make them happier.”

"They ain’t babies anymore. Ask me what I think that’s just a convenient excuse cuz you're comfortable.”

She contemplates what he's saying and eventually nods.

“Good thing I didn’t ask you then.” She replies but her eyes are bright and her tone is soft and he knows she’s teasing.

It’s not awkward, the moment after she makes the joke but it feels heavy. Feels like maybe they’re heading into a new phase of their relationship - one that resembles what used to be, what could have been. He’s not sure how they got here - he’s not sure when he shed the constant anger and disgust and overwhelming need for revenge but he doesn’t want to think about it too hard for fear that it’ll return. 

"He hates you." Elizabeth says after a beat, and the smile that she gives him almost sends him running. A smile that tells him exactly what she’s thinking - like they have a secret that no one else knows.

And he guesses they do. Cuz maybe some people know what the two of 'em have done but they sure as shit don’t know how it felt. 

"Seems like maybe that's somethin' the two of you could agree on." He points out. His voice is rough and husky and just teetering on the edge of indecent and he’s not looking to charm her exactly, not necessarily looking for her to disprove him either, but he likes that when Elizabeth hums in agreement it lacks any real confidence. 

Rio really likes it when she shoots a contemplative smile in his direction.

"Trust me...my life would be be a lot easier if I could hate you." She says quietly, running the tip of her index finger around the rim of her glass.

And he gets it - obviously - thinks the only reason he'd ever hate her is because he wants to so badly but can't.

_How’s it feel to love something you’ll never have?_

"He don't deserve you." Rio mumbles, eyes resting on the empty glass he still holds in his hand. It's not like he don't want her to hear what he's saying he's just not sure he wants her to see what's behind his eyes.

Because it's annoyin' to him - the fact that he'd never put a label on what he'd felt for the woman in front of him, never put a name to how he felt, and it's her stupid ass husband that calls him out for it before he's ready to fuckin' address it himself.

Thinks next time he'll knock him out when he has the chance.


End file.
